


Talk to Me

by domesticadventures



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode: s10e22 The Prisoner, Headspace, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 11:56:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3935896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/domesticadventures/pseuds/domesticadventures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You were forced to assimilate, to learn the language of violence, both giving and receiving. You speak it so fluently now that it may as well have been your native tongue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Talk to Me

People have a language they speak with their bodies.

You know this is true, even though when you picture saying it out loud, you hear your brother’s voice in response, see the way his face twists. Both say, _Dean. C’mon._ You know where he thinks your mind is going.

There’s some merit to that as well, though. People say a lot with the way they act when they have sex. Sometimes, for instance, their mouths call it _fucking_ but their hands tell a different story. You’re a big fan of that, of trying to puzzle them out.

You’re not a big fan of self-reflection, but you know a thing or two about yourself, when it comes to touch. You know you’re only tender with people when there’s no expectation you’re still going to be there in the morning, when you’re not going to be required to sustain it for any extended period of time.

You wonder what that says about you. Probably nothing good.

\--

You spoke in tenderness, once.

It’s not that you’ve forgotten what it means. You remember your mother holding you warm and close, brushing hair from your face, tickling your feet, wiping your tears. You remember your father, too, carrying you in the grocery store, tossing you a ball, throwing you into the air and catching you so easy. You remember.

But you entered a different world when you were four. You were forced to assimilate, to learn the language of violence, both giving and receiving. You speak it so fluently now that it may as well have been your native tongue.

You learn the mercy of bullets grazing your skin, the helpful warning of unnaturally cold air, the kindness of bared fangs. You learn how to read the difference between the kind of nervous that will convince someone to answer your questions and the kind that will have them reaching for a gun. You learn the difference between your father throwing a punch at you like he means it and tossing one to you easily, giving you a chance to get out of the way.

Cas throws you up against a wall, he fists his hands in your shirt, he gets right up in your face. It hurts. You know what it means.

You’re pretty sure he loves you. He wouldn’t be this angry if he didn’t.

\--

You’re unused to the return of affection to your life, have to dig deep to try and puzzle out what the casual contact means.

Some people are easier to read than others. Charlie, for instance, hugs you with enthusiasm, quick and fierce. Her hugs say, _I’m glad to see you._ They say, _I’ll see you later._

It takes you longer to figure out what Cas’ hugs say. You know his touch lingers too long, despite your dearth of experience. You know it exceeds whatever arbitrary time limit has been set by society, even based on the limited understanding you have regarding such things. He presses his fingers into your back, his chin on your shoulder, his face against your hair. He breathes you in like he’s trying to memorize you, trying to immortalize in his mind how this moment feels, as if the blood and gunpowder smell of you is something he might miss.

Coming or going, Cas is always hugging you goodbye.

\--

You beat the shit out of him, his blood mixing with that of your enemies, with your sweat and your grime.

You let him think you’re going to kill him.

You aren’t exactly sure what you’re trying to say, but you’re pretty sure it isn’t _I love you._

 


End file.
